The Whaler and the Weeper
by SaturnitePearl
Summary: The tale of a poor whaler and budding natural philosopher who comes across the very first weeper in Dunwall, set a few months before the events of the first Dishonored game. (Some violence and dark themes)


As the sun set after another long day of work, the crew and I hauled another whale corpse off the boat. Our third one that day, quite a feat to say our boat was considerably smaller than the rest sent out daily. If you ask me, I think we were lucky just to be able to work in Dunwall. We have by far the smallest ship, which is a rat compared to the other boats looming over us like giants at the dock.

Those damn rats. Every day there are more and more making their way into our boat. I don't know how they do it – but somehow, there are more and more. Often Gerda might get out a broom and smash them, or men will use their sharp skinning knives to cut them in half. Rat blood means there is always a lingering smell, a smell different to the constant vile stench of blubber that one gets used to after some time out at sea.

As if rats weren't already a problem, there were rumours spreading about a deadly disease being carried by them. As if my life could get any worse. By this point I was constantly looking over my shoulder for a gang member who could be about to mug me, pickpockets in the large crowds of whalers after work and even just city watch guards, who I have grown a little distrust with over the past few months.

Despite all my troubles, I was still grateful for the time we spent during our evening off. If there's anything I missed about my time whaling it would be the nights I spent with my friends in the bar on the last day of the working week. Places like the Hound Pits would be stuffed full of tired sailors who were drifting in and out constantly. After they'd had a few whiskeys they'd spill out the small doors, staggering back to their apartments for what was probably the best sleep they'd had in days. Some don't favour the atmosphere in a crowded bar full of sailors and whalers, but those hours I spent swimming in the smell of sweat, salt water and blubber where probably the hours of my life that I lived for. What I wouldn't give to be back at that bar, one arm round Gerda and one arm around Anthony, holding a half filled bottle of drink and laughing loudly as more jokes were told and songs were sung.

This day was another normal end to the week. I finished skinning, cleaned my arms at the trough and went to the bar. But today, I left earlier while it was still light outside. I stood at the river's edge and contemplated for a moment, then decided to use the lasts of my money for a two-way boat trip across the river before it got dark. The boat stopped outside Clavering Boulevard and I promised I'd be back in an hour. I ran to Dr Galvani's offices and rushed inside. He wasn't there, as per usual, but he'd left me a bulging notebook filled with copies of his findings. Galvani was a good man, as he understood I did not have the money and time to study natural philosophy, therefore he let me borrow copies of his work to study from, and I would help assist his research whenever I had time.

The notebook was so tempting to open and read, but I urged myself not to so that I could save it all for when I got back to my apartment. Also, the clock was ticking for me to get back to the boat before it left without me.

There was a short walk back to my apartment from the shore where the boat had come back to, and I would have got out my skinning knife if my hands weren't already full. By now the sky was a deep orange colour, and the sunset defined a dark silhouette of Kaldwin's Bridge far in the distance. You could also see small slithers of greasy whale oil floating on the surface. What a waste, I thought, after all the hard work I put in every day to supply the community with the very base that keeps the entire industry on its feet daily. I guess I always spent too much time thinking about all those little things I just couldn't change.

Nothing happed as I walked towards my tiny apartment in the shady side of town. Well, nothing until I walked under a small footbridge just before where I needed to be.

I saw a shadowy figure in the distance. It walked towards me slowly, staggering a little. I thought it was perhaps a watch guard, drunk after coming off duty, but as they neared I realised that their structure looked a little too feminine. A few more staggered strides forward and I realised that it was the woman who lived a few apartments across from me. After her husband died she had become a little odder; she never wore tidy clothes, she was always filling bottles with river water and stacking them by the window, she often scratched at her skin, and constantly was standing on the street outside her house shouting about her displeasure with just about anything, whether it was overseers, whale oil, young people or the smell of brined hagfish. Also, her favourite time to do this was in the early hours of the morning. No wonder my apartment was sold cheap.

Suddenly I remembered something. This woman did not like drink. One of her favourite rant topics was the evils of drink and how it was one of the ways you could be claimed by The Outsider. So why was she staggering along as if drunk, her arms swinging with each heavy stride? Then she began to wail and moan, first softly then louder and louder. Could this really be happening? Here? I didn't think she was _that_ mad. Maybe she'd truly gone and lost her mind. But that still wouldn't explain the stench of rotting flesh, the buzzing flies around her and the gruesome mess that kept erupting from her mouth.

As she grew ever closer to me I began to step back in horror. I could see her eyes now, deep and empty, with black gunk dripping from them. Her flesh was pale, dry and covered in unusual blemishes I'd never seen before. She was so thin that her skin hung off her bones showing indents in her neck, arms and cheeks. All the time I'd spent gazing, terrified, she had made her way forward and was standing right in front of me. She grabbed my arm with her skeleton hand and let out a nightmarish wail. I lashed out and made a move to run but I wasn't strong enough – paralysed by fear. Before I could shout for help she was already ripping at my clothes and trying to scratch me. She batted the notebook out of my hand and it landed in a pool of spilled oil. Then she knocked me out.

I awoke in the same place under the bridge but by this time my neighbour was gone. Instead there were some guards, but I was too dizzy too try to see how many. They muttered things among themselves before realising that I was awake, and before I had properly regained consciousness I was being taken to a boat and back to Clavering Boulevard. I was walking alright but the buildings and pavement still spun before my eyes as if I were out whaling during a furious storm. I was taken up the steps to Galvani's offices, one foot after the other, and then taken inside.

Once I was seated on the ground floor of the building I could finally try to reach back to my usual self. I heard Galvani's voice upstairs and I sat up straight, finally conscious. The guards around me kept asking how I was doing, if I was alright, and I kept telling them that I was fine, I was fine. Fine on the outside.

A man, who appeared to be some sort of guard captain, walked down the stairs; followed closely by Galvani himself.

"Doctor Galvani," He said, "I believe that this is your assistant."

"Ah, yes," Galvani looked me up and down. "What trouble have _you_ gotten yourself into?"

"Nothing! I was just walking along and –"

"He was attacked by something we've never seen before," One of the guards interrupted. "I was the first to notice, but it was gone before I could get a proper look at it."

Galvani put down some papers he had been holding when he arrived. "Well," He said, "I think I should hear this from the very beginning."

It took a while for me to describe everything to them – about picking up the files, going back home over the river, spotting my neighbour, being attacked, losing all the files and ending up unconscious. Unfortunately none of the work survived, so it's a good job they were only copies fresh off a printing press.

"This could be to do with the plague." I said after I'd told them all I'd seen. "Perhaps before instantly dying, the victims of the plague turn into mindless creatures without thoughts or emotion. The disease may have some kind of psychological impact that takes place after a few weeks of infection. She was always a bit... odd, but only your average crazy old lady. Thinking about it, she probably was infected. I used to see her every day, and she did often show signs of ill health."

"Remarkable," Galvani said, his expression bursting with fascination. "Your theory may require some developing, but you are already on your way to a breakthrough discovery. The notebook I gave you was full of some research I've only just started on this sudden epidemic that is taking place. This could perhaps help develop our understanding of this. You should probably spend the night here, you are probably tired and I can imagine you're grieving."

"I barely knew her," I replied.

So Galvani and the guards believed what I said. But how many people would really want to know? I didn't know whether I was ready to speak to large crowds of naturalists, all scribbling things down in little leather bound notebooks that I could never afford. After all, I'm just a whaler. I always have been. But now I'm assisting Galvani with his newest project, will I ever see the deck of a whaling ship again? What about my friends? Would I see them again?

When I made my way upstairs to the laboratory, Galvani was there, next to a neatly folded lab coat and smart clothes. He took then and held them out to me. He stood for a moment and said, "Your days of whaling are over."

Our work continued for two or so months. We made little new discoveries but gained a lot of public attention, and I made my way to becoming a member of the Academy of Natural Philosophy. I even got to speak to Anton Sokolov, something I'd never thought I'd do in my whole life. He said that he was developing an 'elixir' to prevent the plague that would be affordable for the general public. Dr Galvani seemed hesitant to give him our findings, but still did so.

Galvani was showing me a developing bull rat foetus he'd managed to grow in a jar when a city watch captain entered the room.

"You could have knocked." My companion said tartly.

The guard captain ignored him. "Empress Kaldwin requests your presence."

"Maybe we could arrange –"

"NOW."

All of a sudden, we were at dinner with the Kaldwins. I picked up one of many forks and try not to look to much like of water. Despite my new lifestyle, bread and brined hagfish are still my main foods. I was eating things I've never even seen before, let alone tasted and enjoyed. I seemed to have a new liking for Serkonan blood sausage, something whalers only saw at weddings or big celebrations like the coronation. The Empress and Emily seemed suited to that kind of everyday diet.

After some silence, Emily spoke up. "Mother, are these the men you told me about? The ones who are going to help cure the plague?"

"Well, hopefully dear. Things like that do take some time."

"Will we be okay up here in Dunwall tower?"

"Yes. All the guards are checked before they enter."

"Great!" Emily skipped off to the woman I supposed was some kind of supervisor or tutor, and the two of them left.

When she was gone, the Empress began to speak. "Firstly I would like to congratulate you on your findings and development. It is a true joy that people like you show such devotion to the cause. However, the reason I brought you here was because we are having a few problems. There appears to be some kind of strange movement in the sewers, and I daren't send one of my guards down in case it is one of those... weepers or whatever you have named them. I would be very grateful if you could remove whatever it is, and whatever you find might be good for your research."

Without question, we made our way down to the vast maze of sewers that ran below Dunwall Tower and out into the river. The sewer smelled just as bad as the docks when all the whale carcasses are being hauled out after a day's work out at sea, so I was unfazed by it. Galvani, however, held his nose and frequently expressed his displeasure.

After a while searching, we found what we were looking for. It was definitely a weeper, because of the way it walked slowly, swinging its arms and groaning. The ripped clothes and constant vomiting confirmed my suspicions. I raised the gun given to me by a watch officer and pointed it at the chest of the weeper. I lay my finger before the trigger – but then I realised something. I recognised that face, even with the empty eyes and pale skin. It was Anthony.

"Pull the trigger!" Yelled Galvani. "Pull the trigger!"

"I...can't..." My hands shook and I dropped the gun. "He...he was my... my...friend..."

"Stay with me!" Shouted Galvani. "That thing's not your friend anymore! It's a lifeless, emotionless being! It doesn't know you! You said so yourself!"

"No..." Anthony stood right in front of me. I knew that everything Galvani said was true, but I was washed over with emotion for my old friend. I never even said goodbye...

Anthony opened his mouth and spewed all over me. I tried not to inhale it while I picked up and steadied the gun.

"No..."

Anthony put his hand on my shoulder and I fired a shot.

 _Five months later_

I am now sick with the plague. Galvani is still fine, still making medical advances. Jessamine Kaldwin is dead, assassinated and Emily kidnapped. Lord Protector Corvo Attano is in prison for the murder and the kidnapping. Did he do it? I can't say. All I know is that I'll die very soon.

I told Galvani to shoot me if I become a weeper. I couldn't stand ending up like Anthony, a dead man walking. There are so many of them around now; sometimes they even pass by the offices before somebody kills them. Anthony still haunts me even though killing him was likely the right thing. I've been told that Gerda is dead, along with most of the crew of our little whaling ship, which sank about a month ago in a ferocious storm.

Before I was infected, I went around spreading my stories to people, making sure they can keep themselves safe until we find a way to eradicate the disease. I still want people to remember what has happened to Dunwall, so that's why I'm writing this before I die. Perhaps nobody will see it. Perhaps it will be seen by many. Perhaps it will become word of legend, passed down by generations. All I want is to die knowing that this story didn't die with me. The story of the whaler and the weeper.


End file.
